Then they picked up Davy and carried him in, for he had fallen. He felt that he was entitled to fall. Besides, he could not have walked to save his life, now that he was done with the saddle bags.
XXIII
A BRUSH ON THE OVERLAND STAGE
Davy was so stiff and sore that for several days he moved around very little; but he learned that the news which he had brought in was being rushed westward at a tremendous rate. Billy Cody had ridden the last ten miles of his own run in thirty minutes; and by special rider from Julesburg the tidings “Lincoln’s elected!” had been taken into Denver only two days and twenty-one hours out of St. Joseph—665 miles.
When Davy was on his way back to Laramie he heard, at Horseshoe Station, that the news had been carried through to California in eight days—two days less than schedule! That was riding! And although he never again was on Pony Express, he felt that to the end of his life he would be proud of having ridden it once and of having performed well.
The people at Fort Laramie appreciated what Davy had done, and if he had not been a sensible boy the praise that he got would have turned his head. Captain Brown it was who summoned him over to the Brown quarters one evening and asked flatly:
“Dave, how would you like to go to West Point and be educated for a soldier?”
Dave gulped, in surprise, and blushed red. Such an education had been beyond his dreams.